Never Going Home
by OrangeVonSweets
Summary: Marco wasn't exactly happy with his current situation. But who would be if their family just doomed them to an eternity in the Land of the Dead? After a night full of curses and a race against time, it's the last thing he needs. Things seem bleak...until an impossible glimmer of hope (or a rather cruel twist of fate) gives him another chance at getting home.
1. Chapter 1 - Alone

Sure hope I'm doing this right. Sorry for the awful title, it was all I could think of.

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own anything except for the story idea.

Some stuff you need to understand: Many parts of this story are based off an earlier version of the film that was revealed in the deleted scenes. Marco, an earlier version of Miguel, has to bring the stolen guitar with him to the Land of the Dead. To get back home he needs to give it back to de la Cruz. His dead family members need to smash the guitar to get rid of their ridiculous singing curse. This chapter is based specifically on a deleted scene where de la Cruz had smashed the guitar, even if that isn't the exact case here.

…

Marco felt something shatter inside him as the guitar, _his only way home_ , was smashed to bits.

 _No...no...this...this couldn't be happening…_

His legs gave out, and he fell to his knees.

 _This_ has _to be a dream! Please…_

He felt tears forming from the tornado of panicked thoughts rampaging through his head.

 _No!_ He _wouldn't_ cry! Not in front of _them!_ Not in front of the people (skeletons?) that had just took _everything_ from him. A few tears betrayed him anyway.

 _He wasn't going home…_

" _Chamaco?_ " Héctor tried.

But he couldn't hear him. Wherever Marco was, he simply couldn't be reached. He couldn't register anything around him. Except for that _stupid_ guitar that was nothing more than splintered wood now and the growing tightness in his chest. His supposed _family_ had done this to him.

Someone tried to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He tensed underneath it.

 _This was their fault._

He jerked away from the touch. _All of this was their fault._ He didn't really care who's hand it was. He didn't want to be near _any_ of them.

They had _killed_ him.

That thought weighed heavily in his mind. _He wasn't going home_. Not anymore. _He was as good as dead._

A sob tore through his throat before he bolted. Away from Héctor. Away from the broken guitar. Away from his family. Just… _away._ He needed to get away. He didn't really care how at the moment. He couldn't tell where he was going through his tears, but that didn't matter. He just needed to get _away._

He ran until he couldn't run anymore. Until his legs were _screaming_ at him to stop. Once he came to that point he finally listened, leaned against the wall of an alleyway, and slid down into a sitting position. He didn't have any tears left, so he just sat in defeated silence, his mind eerily calm for a moment. His heart hammered in his chest and his lungs gasped for air. His whole body hurt. How long had he been running?

Marco's eyelids drooped, suddenly becoming heavy. He looked to the horizon. There wasn't any sign of the sun's rising, _he still had time_. He was usually asleep by now. His golden eyes looked down to his hands. They'd been fully skeletal for a while now, with a layer of barely visible skin protecting them, a constant reminder that he had a time limit. A meaningless time limit now. He was doomed.

Angry tears spilled from his eyes as he clenched his fists. He'd tried. _Tried so hard._ But he'd _failed._

 _No._

His "family" had failed _him._

His eyelids drooped further. His exhaustion consuming him, despite his growing rage, leaving him in a dreamless sleep, slumped against a wall.

And for the first time all night, Marco felt truly alone.

…

Wow. I'm actually doing this.

And I know that this is super short, but it was a good place to cut off. Please let me know if there's any errors. I have checked it, but it's definitely possible that I missed something.


	2. Chapter 2 - Plans

Thank you to everyone who's left a review so far. I can only hope that I don't disappoint!

Also: I came up with a much better title (as you've probably already noticed) that fits with the story a lot more.

Anyway, let's get on with it.

…

Marco gave his reflection a satisfied look as he finished up his disguise for the night.

It wasn't as intricate as some other _calavera_ makeup designs he'd seen, but, considering that he wasn't very experienced, it would do.

Even if his family probably wouldn't notice his absence (not for a while anyway), this was a rather easy way to keep his identity a secret while he performed in the plaza. He didn't want to get in trouble for sneaking out after all. And he _definitely_ didn't want his one completely free night (that'd he'd been planning for at least a week now) to be cut short by some nosy adult.

While Marco didn't really _hate_ his family, he felt trapped by them most of the time. Due to him being one of the few in the family with some musical talent, Marco was either at school, doing homework, or constantly practicing. At least, that's what it felt like to him.

You see, his family had become somewhat well known for the rumor that his great-grandfather was an unplanned child of Ernesto de la Cruz, the greatest musician of all time (although his family begged to differ). His great-great-grandmother had always claimed this rumor to be very much true, despite not really having any proof. But it was definitely possible. _Every_ celebrity had their fair share of secrets after all.

Because of this, his family believed wholeheartedly that music _must_ run in the family, despite the fact that most of them couldn't even play an instrument, and saw the perfect opportunity to strike back against de la Cruz. Although, it was more like striking back against the man's legacy. He'd been dead for more than a few decades now.

When it became apparent that Marco was "blessed" with his gift of musical competence, they had immediately put him to work, constantly pushing him to exceed his limits and to "seize his moment," as his supposed great-great-grandfather would say. They wanted Marco to be just as great, if not better, than de la Cruz, using his success to make the long dead _músico_ regret leaving his great-great-grandmother heartbroken with a child to raise. They hadn't told him this directly of course, but it didn't take a genius to figure it out.

And he was sick of being a pawn in some stupid revenge scheme that didn't make much sense (not to him anyway).

Not to say that he hated music. He enjoyed performing (even if he didn't have any input on what he was playing) and showing off whatever new skill he'd learned from his countless hours of practice time, but there could definitely be too much of a good thing. And Marco was practically _drowning_ in it by this point.

And sure, he'd be performing tonight, but this was different. This time, he didn't have any expectations to live up to. He could just relax, have fun, and be himself for once, instead of being whatever his family wanted.

Marco looked at his reflection once more and sighed. Did he really want to do this? It was _Dia de los Muertos_ after all. Wasn't tonight about family? Shouldn't he be there to celebrate _with_ his family then? Despite their constant hounding, he couldn't deny the fondness (however small it was sometimes) he had for them.

It didn't take him long to answer his own question. No. He'd been planning this for far too long to back out now. _Dia de los Muertos_ was one of the few nights a year he got a break from practicing, and he wasn't going to waste it at home.

There was a knock at his door and a voice called his name. Panic surged through his core. He couldn't get caught! He didn't have an excuse ready!

Marco pulled on his favorite blue hoodie and a pair of quality Rivera footwear, before climbing out the window and making a mad dash for the plaza, leaving his guitar behind.

Oh well. He'd just have to figure something else out.

…

Don't worry, we'll get back to the present in the next chapter.

This is still kind of short (again, it was a good place to cut off) and I have no idea if these are going to get any longer.

Also, I don't have names figured out for Marco's family yet, so until I figure those out things might be a little bit confusing.

And just so we're clear: This probably isn't going to have a consistent update schedule. I'll try, but I can't make any promises.


	3. Chapter 3 - Skeletons

First, an explanation. Ok so, I know I said we'd be getting back to the present in this chapter, but that didn't end up happening. This scene ended up getting written first, and since I want to at least _try_ updating once a week, I figured that I should probably post this first. Hopefully, things will be a bit more organized as I go on.

Anyway, on with the story!

...

This was an _absolutely awful_ idea.

And yet, here he was. About to go grave robbing.

Marco sucked in a breath and held it as he broke the window open. It was almost a miracle that no one had noticed, even with the fireworks going off in the distance.

He was really doing this, wasn't he?

He slipped inside rather quietly, all things considered. Until his foot knocked against the window's now broken latch. Marco winced but pressed forward slowly.

Why was he doing this again?

He looked to the iconic guitar hanging above Ernesto's remains. Oh right. He needed an instrument. He would've borrowed one from someone living, but no one would help him out. And so here he was. Stealing from a dead guy. Well...not really _stealing._ He was going to bring it right back when he was done. Besides, de la Cruz was family! Possibly. He wouldn't mind!

…Would he?

Marco hopped onto the crypt, cursing under his breath as he accidentally slid the top just a bit. He turned his gaze to the guitar. It was a truly beautiful instrument. Marco couldn't believe he was able to get this close to it! Even if it wasn't under the best terms. He reached out and wiped some of the dust from its surface. He could see his face in it!

Marco's eyes shot up to the portrait of Ernesto hanging above the guitar. "I'll bring it right back," he assured. "Besides, it not like _you're_ getting any use out of it," he reasoned as he grabbed the instrument and carefully stepped off the crypt, not noticing the warm glow of the petals lining the ground.

He looked at the guitar suspiciously. It'd been hanging there since Ernesto's death. It was probably _way_ out of of tune. He gave it an experimental strum, just to be sure, and jumped as a sudden gust of wind disturbed the petals underfoot. It was...strange. To say the least.

"The guitar!" someone exclaimed outside. "It's gone!"

Other panicked voices soon joined in.

"Somebody stole de la Cruz's guitar!"

"The window's broken. Look!"

Panic surged through Marco's body. _Oh no oh no oh no…_ He began to freeze up as his heartbeat hastened.

Why did he think this was a good idea?!

A man with a flashlight opened the door of the mausoleum. "Alright," he called sternly. "Who's in there?"

Marco took a deep breath to settle his racing heart and turned around slowly, still clinging to the guitar. "I-it's not what it looks like…" he stammered as the man continued forward. "I just need it for a little -" A sudden wave of nausea washed over him as the man stepped through him.

"There's nobody here."

The man had walked through him. A man had just walked _straight through_ him! Was he _dead?_ Did that _stupid_ guitar just kill him?!

Marco's breathing soon caught up with his heartbeat as he made a break for it. He phased through more than a few people on his way out of the mausoleum, even if he was doing his best to avoid them.

It was a miracle that his death grip didn't damage the instrument. He couldn't understand why he was clinging to it so desperately. But he didn't have much time to think about that as he tripped and dropped the guitar. He pushed himself up onto his elbows as a woman with gloved hands bent down to pick up the guitar. She started handing it back to him as he stood up. Thank goodness _someone_ had finally noticed him!

"Here you go, _niño,"_ she said as he grabbed the guitar from her. "Are you alri-"

Marco looked from the guitar to the woman to see why she had stopped so suddenly. And he nearly dropped the instrument when he saw a skull staring back at him.

There was a small beat of silence before the shock consumed them both.

Marco screamed.

She screamed in return.

All this screaming gathered a small crowd of skeletons, thus doubling Marco's terror. His mind started drowning him in a sea of panicked thoughts as the small crowd began to close in. He looked around for an escape and bolted as soon as he found an opening.

He dashed behind a headstone and hid as he tried to calm his heart and mind. His death grip on the guitar returned. It almost felt like an anchor to the physical world that he no longer seemed to be a part of.

After taking a few deep calming breaths, he peaked around the headstone. None of the skeletons had followed him it seemed. In fact, the scene before him was rather relaxed and warm. The skeletons all sat or stood by their families, noting how much a child had grown or silently gathering the offerings left at their graves. Others were dancing and just enjoying themselves. It was almost comforting. Marco felt himself calm down a bit at the sight, even if he was still silently praying that this was all just a bad dream.

"Marco?!"

…

Next chapter should be getting back to the present (if I can just finish writing it).

Anyway, like I said, I'm going to try to update this weekly on Saturdays. Let's hope I can actually stick to it.


	4. Chapter 4 - Replacements

**At last! The actual story begins! Nothing else to say here.**

 **On with the story!**

…

 _It was cold._

 _And dark._

 _And suffocating._

…

 _Where was he?_

…

 _Was he even breathing?_

…

…

 _He was dead, wasn't he?_

…

It stayed like that for a long while.

...

 _A feeling of dread washed over him in the next instant. He turned to see a figure slowly making its way towards him. He hesitated a moment before turning and bolting. He had no idea what it was, but he wasn't in any rush to find out. The figure matched his pace. Marco tried going faster, but the figure followed suit._

 _He glanced back at it and caught a gleam of white. What even was this thing?_

 _In his desperate attempt to get away from…whatever it was, he tripped on what seemed to be nothing and fell through what had felt solid moments ago (it was rather hard to figure out anything in the dark). He tried screaming as he continued to fall, but no sound came. Maybe he couldn't hear it over the wind whipping past his ears. A bright light came into view below him, and his voice returned to him seconds before he fell straight into it._

…

Marco woke up with a gasp. Ok, that was good. He was still breathing. Did skeletons even breath? He could feel his heart pumping in his chest. That was even better! Skeletons _definitely_ didn't have organs! He looked to his hands. Still skeletal. He wasn't entirely sure what he had expected there. He felt his face a bit, just to be completely sure. He could still feel his skin. _Yes!_ He _was_ still alive! He gave a shaky laugh. He wasn't dead!

…Yet.

He was still trapped.

That definitely put a damper on things. Was he always this pessimistic?

Well…he wasn't dead! He could cling to whatever hope that gave at least.

Maybe he could even make it to de la Cruz? Even if he didn't have the guitar...or a guide. He could at least try. It's not like he had much left to lose.

Marco's mind turned to his dream. What _was_ that thing? Why was it chasing him? _What would've happened if it had caught him?_

Why did he even care? It was just a dream!

...Right?

A high-pitched _grito_ sliced through his thoughts and immediately caught his attention. It was just a dream after all. _Just a dream,_ he repeated to himself a few times. _More like a nightmare._

Marco looked to the source of the sound and found a stage that he hadn't noticed before. He figured that he hadn't seen it through his emotional distress. There was a kid, who couldn't be older than twelve, performing a cover of " _Un Poco Loco,"_ a song that Marco himself had performed more than a few times. He had even performed it for a dead audience before things had...gone bad. He shook off those thoughts and instead decided to focus on something else. Like the kid's voice. He could have sworn that he'd heard that voice before. He just wasn't sure where. Marco decided to try to get closer to see if he could recognize the kid while he went through a list of names in his head.

 _Luis? No, he couldn't even sing. Gabriel? No...Miguel? Miguel! That's it!_

He didn't know the boy well, but they'd talked enough that Marco could recognize his voice. It was strange that he was performing, considering that his family was well known throughout Santa Cecilia for their hate of music. But that became much less of a concern as he soon realized the implications of Miguel being in the Land of the Dead. _Did he die?!_ Sure, he didn't know the kid that well but _dying that young?_ It gave him chills just thinking about it.  
As he slowly edged his way through the crowd he soon realized that no, Miguel wasn't dead, thank goodness, it was just face paint. It was rather amazing that it fooled anyone, for bits of his skin were showing through.  
So…he wasn't the only living kid in the Land of the Dead? That seemed _very_ unlikely. But that was the only explanation… Marco couldn't help but wonder what the kid had stolen to get there.

A much taller performer, who was _actually_ dead, was dragged onto the stage by a Xolo (a rather normal looking Xolo too. How strange). He felt _painfully_ familiar.

It almost felt like the world froze when the skeleton started singing. He _knew_ that voice! It was Héctor!

It's not that he wasn't happy to see him. It was just...a bit confusing. How had Héctor caught up to him so quickly? What was he doing up on the stage? Did he even know Marco was there?

Despite his newfound confusion Marco had to admit that the two performed well together. It was almost like they'd done it thousands of times before. This just added to Marco's initial bafflement. Because that _couldn't_ be true. Miguel was a _living_ kid, and Héctor had been dead for who knows how long. There was _no way_ they could have met before this.

Another thought quickly overshadowed the rest. _Why was Héctor performing with some random kid?_ Anger with a twinge of sadness began to cloud his thoughts. Had he been replaced? _No._ That was a stupid. He had to be logical about this. Héctor probably didn't even know he was there!

It still didn't answer his first question though. He'd just have to ask him after the performance.

The song ended with one final _grito_ from Miguel and the two on stage stared in awe at the cheering crowd. Héctor turned to Miguel and said something that Marco couldn't quite hear, but he assumed it was praise by the way the kid smiled, before embracing the cheers of the audience. Miguel quickly followed.

Marco felt the beginnings of jealousy joining his quickly growing anger as he glared up at the stage. He hadn't gotten praise. He'd just gotten lectured for showing off.

 _No._ He needed to be reasonable. Which was a lot more challenging than it sounded.

The kid's joy soon turned to panic as he spotted something out in the audience (perhaps he'd noticed Marco's glare?), and he dragged a reluctant Héctor off stage. Marco decided to follow them. Now was his chance to get some answers!

A brightly dressed woman came to the stage. " _Damas y caballeros_ , I have an emergency announcement," she said. "Please be on the lookout for a living boy."

Marco wondered if the woman was talking about him. Was his family looking for him?

He scoffed. Like he wanted to see any of _them_ after what they did.

"Answers to the name of 'Miguel.'"

He soon realized his mistake.

"Earlier tonight he ran away from his family."

That snatched Marco's full attention away from Miguel and Héctor. So he and Miguel had something in common?

"They just want to send him back to the Land of the Living.

Marco scowled. Then _why_ was Miguel running from them exactly? Didn't he realize how lucky he was?!

"Wait, wait, wait." Héctor's voice brought his gaze back to the pair. "You said de la Cruz was your _only_ family. The _only_ person who could send you home."

Well... _that_ was definitely a strange coincidence. But Marco had already stolen (and ruined) the guitar. What else was there to steal? _The corpse?_ How would you even return that to someone?

But maybe he and Miguel could help each other…?

Marco's curiosity got the best of him, and he continued to eavesdrop from a hiding spot.

"I do have other family but-" Miguel sputtered.

"You could have taken my photo back this _whole time?!"_

Oh. So he _had_ been replaced? It was kind of undeniable now...

Even still, he couldn't just jump to conclusions. But it was looking _pretty_ bad for Héctor.

Marco dug into his hoodie pocket and pulled out the photo of Héctor's smiling face. He still had it. How had Héctor gotten it back? Did he have another one?

"-But they _hate_ music!" Miguel continued. A rather pathetic excuse if you asked Marco. "I need a musician's blessing!"

Marco shoved the photo back into his pocket. A _blessing?_ Was that how this kid planned on getting home? How would that even work?

"You lied to me!" Héctor accused.

"Oh, _you're_ one to talk," Miguel retorted.

"Look at me. I'm being forgotten Miguel," Héctor sighed, withering a bit. "I don't even know if I'm going to last the night! I'm not gonna miss my _one chance_ to cross that bridge 'cause you want to live out some _stupid_ musical fantasy!" His voice had gained an edge by the end.

"It's not _stupid!"_ Miguel snarled, clearly offended.

Marco wondered if he should intervene. This was getting a bit out of hand…

"I'm taking you back to your family!" Héctor decided, attempting to drag Miguel back into the crowd.

"Let go of me!" And he was _not_ having that.

"You'll thank me later!"  
Miguel yanked his arm away. "You don't wanna help me, you only care about yourself!" He fished the photo out of his pocket. "Keep your _dumb_ photo!" he hissed, throwing it with a flick of his wrist before storming off. "Stay away from me!

Héctor desperately scrambled after it. "No, no, no, no!"

Marco's gaze followed Miguel for a bit before turning back to Héctor, who was now searching for the kid.

Their eyes met for a second (a small miracle considering the crowd), and Marco scowled, deciding to follow Miguel. _That's what you get for replacing me._

…

 **Ok so, I know that most of this chapter was ripped straight from the movie, but I promise that things will get more interesting as it goes on!**

 **Also sorry that this was kind of late. I just couldn't get this scene right for some reason. I'm still not sure if I like it that much now…  
Anyway, see you next Saturday ****(hopefully)** **!**


	5. Chapter 5 - Curses

**Woah! I'm updating on time for once!**

 **Thank you, once again, to everyone who has left a review. They're what keeps me writing!  
And good news: I figured out Marco's family tree and all their names. Something you'll notice is that his family is considerably smaller when compared to Miguel's. This is partially because I'm not that great a writer, and I probably couldn't handle that many characters all at once. **

**Bad news: They still don't have a last name.**

 **That being said, this is another flashback chapter. Sorry! I know that the actual story just got going, but those scenes are harder to write for some reason. But at least we get to meet some of the family!**

 **Anyway, on with the story!**

…

"Marco?!" a shrill voice sung.

Said boy's heart stopped at the sound. _No._ She…she had _died_ last month! She shouldn't… _couldn't_ be there!

He couldn't say that he was _sad_ she was gone, because he really wasn't. All she had done was _suffocate_ him all his life. Her constant presence had always made him anxious, and the pressure she had always put on him wasn't that fun either. But he almost felt like he could breathe and think clearly again after she passed, and he just _couldn't_ mourn a woman who had tormented him for most of his life. He never voiced this, however, because he knew how much it would upset his mother. She had loved her older sister and was _devastated_ when the news had reached home.

He slowly turned to the voice's owner and found a woman looming over him with her hands on her hips. He stifled a scream at her skeletal frame. The woman was terrifying enough as it was! He tried to swallow his nerves as he met her eyes. They were fiery and filled with rage. Her expression softened slightly into shock that he had responded.

" _T-Tía_ Violeta?" he stuttered.

Her glare came back full force. "What are you doing with that _pathetic_ _músico's_ guitar?

His fear lessened at the fact that she was singing. Why was she _singing?_

His nervous stare shifted to the ground. "I just needed it for a bit…" he mumbled.

"Why would you need it?" she spat. "You have a perfectly good guitar at home!"

Marco had to choose his words carefully. She wouldn't like that he'd snuck out. "I needed it for a performance…" It wasn't a full lie.

Her voice grew more out of tune with each sentence. She massaged the would-be-bridge of her nose. "Santa Cecilia isn't that big Marco. You could have just walked home!" Her voice hit an awful note, due to frustration, and Marco snorted.

"You're out of tune," he teased quietly. He shouldn't have to be scared of her! She was supposed to be gone. She was _dead._ And she was _singing_ every harsh word, which definitely softened them up.

Violeta grabbed his wrist and forced him up. "This isn't a joke, you _selfish brat!"_ she screeched.

Marco winced as the circulation to his hand was being cut off. His other hand still held the neck of the guitar awkwardly.

"Give me that!" she hissed, snatching it from his grip, the instrument making a sound of protest. She began drag him along. " _Mamá_ Gabi will know what to do with you."

Marco followed reluctantly, deciding that the vice grip on his wrist wasn't going to let up any time soon.

 _Tía_ Violeta dragged him to a small group of skeletons that seemed vaguely familiar. "Look who I found!" she declared, holding Marco's captive wrist, and slightly purple fingers, up.

The group turned towards the pair and various looks of shock were exchanged.

"Marco!" a silver-haired skeleton cried, hurrying over to both of them. " _Mijo,_ what happened?"

Marco squinted at her, searching his brain for her identity. He had very fuzzy memories of that voice.

"This _thief,"_ she spat, pulling his wrist again and making him flinch, "decided to do some grave robbing tonight." She held up the guitar for them to see, and Marco shrunk a bit in shame.

Recognition sparked in one of the skeleton's eyes as she looked at the guitar.

"I was gonna bring it back!" he protested, trying to free his wrist. "And could you let go! My hand is going numb."  
Violeta complied, amazingly, and Marco felt the blood rush back to his fingers. The silver-haired skeleton rushed forward and enveloped him in a hug.

"Ay, _pobrecito,"_ she cooed as she stroked his back lovingly. "You must be so scared." Her melody was soft and soothing, a stark contrast to _Tía_ Violeta's harsh song.

Marco's eyes darted around nervously before something clicked in his head. " _Mamá_ Rosa?" he asked tentatively.

He had faded memories of her from when he was a toddler. She had died right before he turned five. He couldn't remember much about her, but he clung desperately to what he could, for they were the few memories he had of love and warmth. He'd been heartbroken when she died.

" _Si,"_ she confirmed. "It's me."  
Marco felt like he was going to cry. "I missed you," he admitted, voice cracking, as he hugged her back, burying his face in her shoulder.

Her hugs had always made him feel safe and loved. This hug was kind of uncomfortable, probably because of the lack of flesh, but the security and the warmth was still there, and he had _really_ missed that.

" _Marco!"_ _Tía_ Violeta's harsh voice broke through his comfort.

Marco subconsciously tightened his hold on his _Mamá_ Rosa as he began to panic. _No! I don't want to go to with her…Don't let go!_

 _Mamá_ Rosa held back just as tightly. _I'm here...don't worry._

"Listen to me!" his aunt hissed, grabbing his hood and pulling him away from his _Mamá_ Rosa.

"No!" Marco cried, reaching behind his head uselessly. "Let go of me!" Why was he so _scared?_ He wasn't a little kid anymore!

"ENOUGH!" a new voice rose above the others.

Every head turned to see who it was. The small group split to reveal a scowling woman. Her gray-streaked hair was pulled back into a single braid and she was wearing a simple handmade dress. The markings on her skull looked awfully similar to Violeta's.

Marco took the opportunity to escape his aunt's grip.

Violeta shoved the guitar into Marco's arms as she clumsily stepped forward. " _M-Mamá_ Gabi! I can explain!" Was she...scared?

Marco would have laughed at the fact that _Tía_ Violeta was actually _scared_ of something, but it soon became clear that _Mamá_ Gabi was marching towards _him_. He had never met the woman in life, but if she was anything like _Tía_ Violeta he'd better shut up. He took a few nervous steps backwards as she got closer.

Gabriella's glare shifted to the guitar and then back to Marco. She seemed to be considering something. She shook her head, finally coming to a decision. "Come along Marco." Her notes came out staccato. "The Department of Family Reunions will know what to do." She turned on her heel, walking out of the cemetery, and the rest of the small group followed her without question. It seemed like she was the leader. And Marco wouldn't be surprised if Violeta was second in command.

Rosamaria stayed behind for her grandson, who stood hesitantly. He didn't know if he could trust these people. Sure, they were his family, but so far they all seemed pretty insane. He hadn't talked to many of them yet, but he wasn't looking much forward to meeting the rest of them.

 _Mamá_ Rosa offered him a comforting smile. "It's alright, _mijo,"_ she assured.

Marco took a deep breath, slipped the guitar strap on, and slid the instrument onto his back. "Let's go," he agreed.

Luckily, they weren't far behind the others. Gabriella and Violeta were mumbling quiet melodies to themselves. Marco had the strange feeling that they were talking about him. The other two skeletons, who he hadn't been properly introduced to yet, followed close behind the two women. One looked…tired. And sad? It was hard to tell from his back. The other spared a glance back at the pair. He gave a rather suspicious smile before turning back forward.

" _Mamá_ Rosa?" he started quietly. He didn't want the others to hear. They might take it as an insult. "Why are you guys singing?"

Her ever-present smile faded. "It's a curse, _mijo._ A few other families have it as well."

"But why do you have it?" he asked, voice still only coming barely above a whisper. "You didn't do anything wrong. And you married into the family. Why does that count?"

A sad little smile graced her features. "Curses are mysterious things, Marco. And it seems you might have gotten one yourself from that guitar you borrowed."

His hands rose and gripped the strap. Cursed? That would make sense…

Why did it feel like the guitar was laughing at him?

 _No,_ he told himself. _That's ridiculous._ It was an inanimate object!

"So…I'm not dead?" He needed to be sure.

Her real smile returned as she gave a small laugh. "I don't think so. You'd be singing by now if you were."

That got him to smile. But his attention was soon drawn to the foot of a bridge made entirely of marigold petals. Each petal seemed to give a soft glow, giving the bridge an ethereal look to it. Dozens of skeletons were crossing over it and into the cemetery. The two women leading the group stepped onto it as if it were nothing. They seemed to run into a small amount of resistance, like there was an invisible barrier separating the bridge and the living world. Their orange glow disappeared as they passed through it. The rest of the group stepped onto the bridge just as effortlessly. The petals underneath their feet glowed brighter as they walked on them.

Marco hesitated at what he thought was the barrier. This bridge was made of _petals._ And sure, skeletons could walk on them, but what about _living_ kids? What would happen when _he_ stepped on?

His family pressed onward, not noticing his distress. But _Mamá_ Rosa stopped for him and waited patiently.  
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and put one foot forward.  
Well. At least he hadn't fallen through. He opened his eyes to see the petals supporting his foot glowing. He gave a relieved laugh, and fully stepped onto the bridge, quickly catching up to his _Mamá_ Rosa.

…

 **As you can tell Marco's family situation isn't…the best…**

 **Just so we're clear on some family things: Gabriella (** _ **Mam**_ _ **á**_ **Gabi) is Marco's great-great-grandmother. The skeleton with the suspicious smile is her brother, Andres. The one who seemed tired and sad is Gabriella's little "accident" Manuel, Marco's great-grandfather. Rosamaria (** _ **Mam**_ _ **á**_ **Rosa) is Manuel's wife. Violeta is Marco's recently deceased aunt. While it doesn't really matter how she died, it was probably something rather tragic, like a car accident.**

 **See you next Saturday!**


	6. Chapter 6 - Introductions

**And...another late update. Shoot.**

 **Anyway, I would like to give a huge thanks to MysteryGirl7Freak for being the sole reason this chapter is done right now. I rewrote this more than a few times, and it just** _ **wasn't working.**_ **But MysteryGirl had some great suggestions that led to the version you read now.**

 **Also, Marco has a last name now (a suggestion from MysteryGirl) that's probably only going to be temporary. This is because Marco has the same last name in another fic called Sonance (which you should read if you haven't, it's** _ **really**_ **good) and I don't want there to be any confusion. But for now, he'll be known as Marco Veracruz. It shouldn't come up that much, but I'll change it if something better comes along.**

 **On with the story!**

…

Marco was kind of amazed. Miguel sure moved fast! He'd only been two seconds behind the kid and he'd already managed to lose him.

"You're not a spirit guide, you're just a _dumb dog!"_ There he was. "Now get out of here!"

Marco hurried in the direction of the voice. He couldn't lose his one chance, no matter how slim it was, at getting back home.

But then he stopped, becoming oblivious to everything else.

Home.

He repeated the word a few times in his head. What was "home" exactly?

"Home," or at least what he had assumed it was up to this point, wasn't that great now that he thought about it. Did he even want to go back? Going home meant endless practicing and perfect performances. He'd be going back to his living family. Where else could he go? They probably wouldn't let him out of their sight after tonight. He'd be _trapped_ again. But it would be worse. It wouldn't just be his aunt. It'd be _every_ member of the family.

But going "home" meant that he'd at least get to live.

If he stayed in the Land of the Dead he'd _die._

He'd be trapped either way.  
Was there a third option?

He could run away...but where would he go?

While Marco was digging deep into his thoughts, he failed to notice the vibrant flying jaguar barreling towards him until he was firmly grasped in its talons.

Marco screamed as the ground got farther and farther away. _No no no no..._ What was happening?! His feet kicked uselessly as he struggled to escape its grasp. If he could break free before they got too high…

"This nonsense ends _now_ Miguel!" the woman riding the creature hissed. "I am giving you my blessing, and you are going home!"

Wait…

Did she think…?

"I-I'm not Miguel!" Marco cried as loud he could, voice shaking. Did they really look that similar? "Please put me down!"

No wonder Miguel was running from his family, this woman was terrifying!

The woman scoffed. "Honestly, Miguel! Is that the best you can come up with?"

"I'm not Miguel!" Marco repeated. "I-I'm Marco! Marco Veracruz!"

The woman, upon hearing this, had the alebrije quickly descend. Marco regained his footing clumsily as the beast let go of shoulders, landing a small distance away. The woman, who seemed to have a fondness for the color purple, slid off gracefully and marched over to him. She inspected him for a moment, hands on her hips, before realizing her mistake. Confusion soon became apparent in her expression.

She was about to speak when Miguel came rushing into the scene. He stumbled back, letting out a gasp when he caught sight of the woman.

"Miguel!"

He gave a small yelp and bolted into a narrow alleyway as she called his name.

"Wait!" Marco cried, running after him.

"Miguel, stop!" the woman called as she chased after the boy as well.

Marco caught up to him without hesitation this time.  
"Why are you following me?" Miguel panted.

"Come back!" The woman's voice echoed through the alleyway.

"I think we can help each other," Marco explained.

"How?" the boy asked as they both reached a gate.

"Miguel!" She was getting closer.

"You need to get to de la Cruz, right?" Marco asked quickly as he glanced back. _We're cornered!_  
"Yeah, so?" Miguel responded as he pushed himself through the gate, the guitar on his back holding him back for a moment before he continued forward.

Marco followed suit. "Well so do I."

"I'm trying to save your life!" the woman cried as she too came to the gate, grasping at it.

"You're _ruining_ my life!" Miguel spat, deciding to ignore Marco for the moment.

" _What?"_ She seemed surprised.

"Music's the only thing that makes me happy," the boy explained as he slowed down to look back at her. "And you…you wanna take that away!" He began picking his pace back up. "You'll _never_ understand!"

The woman's gaze shifted downward, lost in thought.

Marco stopped near the top of the stairs, waiting for Miguel to catch up.

Silence rang throughout the alleyway.

…But then the woman started singing. Miguel froze.

He turned to her slowly as the melody faded. "I thought you…hated music."

The woman smiled, seeming nostalgic. "Oh, I loved it. I remember that feeling," she reminisced with a sigh. "When my husband would play, and I would sing, and nothing else mattered."

Marco felt like he was watching what was meant to be a private moment. He considered leaving, but his curiosity got the best of him once more.

The woman's tone turned serious. "But when we had Coco, suddenly…there was something in my life that matter _more_ than music. I wanted to put down roots. _He,"_ she scowled, "wanted to play for the world. We each made a sacrifice to get what we wanted." She shook off her sadness, whether it be new or old. "Now _you_ must make a choice."

Marco's gaze darkened as he once again thought about how lucky Miguel was, his jealousy returning. _No._ He had to be reasonable.

Even still, he could only wish that his family had been like this. Sure, this seemed like an impossible choice for the boy, but at least he _had_ a choice.

"But I don't wanna pick sides! Why can't you be on _my_ side?" Miguel seemed close to tears. "That's what family's supposed to do," he insisted. "Support you."  
Marco pitied the kid. That's what he'd thought at first too.

"But you never will." Miguel wiped at his forming tears with the base of his hand and rushed passed Marco.

At least he'd learned his lesson before it was too late.

He spared a final glance at the woman before following after Miguel.

…

They had been walking in silence for a while now. Miguel hadn't agreed to his proposal yet, but now was not the time to ask. This left Marco alone with his thoughts for while.

He repeated the night's events in his head over and over.

If he'd just done this...if he'd only said that…

None of it really mattered now anyway. All of it was in the past. He couldn't change it.

And besides, he still had chance to get home. A rather slim chance, but he'd take anything at this point.

A familiar feeling of dread washed over him in the next instant. His eyes widened as he began to panic. _No._ It was just a dream. It wasn't real. He had to be reasonable.

His gaze slowly shifted until he was looking passed Miguel. He caught a short glimpse of a chilling golden glare. He tensed as he felt it pierce his soul.

"What are you looking at?" Miguel asked as he tried to find what had caught Marco's attention.

"N-nothing," Marco sputtered, his eyes snapping back forward. "It's nothing. Just…lost in thought." It was really rather pathetic. He shouldn't be scared by something from a dream! He was probably just seeing things.

"Sure," Miguel deadpanned, clearly not buying it. "Anyway, who are you exactly?"

It seemed that in the rush of getting away, Marco had forgotten to give his name. Not that he had had the time to.

"Marco," he introduced himself, stopping and holding his hand out in greeting.  
"Miguel," the kid responded, taking Marco's hand and shaking it. "But you probably already knew that." He chuckled a bit, before continuing forward. "So...what were you talking about back there? Helping each other?"

"It's like I said, we both need to get to de la Cruz," Marco explained. "It'd be _a lot_ easier if we worked together." It would still be horribly difficult for two living kids to travel across the Land of the Dead on a time limit, but two heads were definately better than one.

"I guess it would be a little easier…" Miguel admitted. He had to think for a moment, and Marco didn't rush him. He'd trusted Héctor and had been betrayed. It was only natural that he'd be skeptical. "Alright!" he agreed with a nod. "Sounds like a plan!"

Marco smiled. He was glad that something actually went right for a change. Maybe this wasn't as hopeless as he thought.

…

 **Suggestions are welcome and greatly appreciated!**

 **Let's hope I can actually keep my own schedule this time…**


	7. Chapter 7 - Questions

**Ok, so since I've managed to fail at updating on Saturday for a few weeks now I've decided to change my update schedule to every Sunday. It's not that big of a change, but it gives me all of Saturday to write (which I need since school is still a thing and procrastination is my worst enemy).**

 **Nothing else to say here, just wanted to let you know.**

 **On with the story!**

…

"Who are those two?" Marco asked _Mamá_ Rosa. He hadn't been introduced to the two remaining members of his dead family, and he couldn't quite place their names on his own.

"He," she pointed to the tired-looking skeleton, "is your _Papá_ Manuel."  
"Why does he look so…drained?"

She smiled sadly. "He's…had a long life." She seemed to be choosing her words carefully. "Living with _Mamá_ Gabi for so long took its toll."

"...Oh." Marco hadn't thought about it much before, but Manuel was an accident. Gabriella probably wasn't that happy to be stuck with a child she didn't ask for. And her bitterness probably wasn't the best for said child. "What about the other one?" he asked, quickly changing the subject.

"He's your _Tío_ Andres," _Mamá_ Rosa explained, gladly accepting the abrupt change. " _Mamá_ Gabi's brother."

They were about halfway across the bridge before he could see their destination.

Marco stared in awe at the vibrant city that lay before him as his pace slowed. He'd never seen so much color in one place! The buildings almost seemed like they were stacked on top of each other, with each layer being more modern than the last. What seemed like millions of lights shining throughout the city made the towers stand out brilliantly against the dark coat of night. Even the creatures (alebrijes?) inhabiting the beautiful city seemed to glow!

Was this the Land if the Dead? But it felt so…alive.

" _Marco!" Tía_ Violeta snapped, finally noticing him lagging behind the small group.

Marco tore his eyes away from the beautiful city, sending a deadly glare her way. "Coming," he grumbled, begrudgingly catching up with the group. He pulled up his hood as he got yet another shocked stare. He doubted that the makeup would fool any of the skeletons, but maybe they wouldn't stare so much.

The family entered a line of skeletons waiting for reentry, offerings in their arms. It didn't take them long to reach the front.

"Welcome back, _amigos!"_ the arrivals agent greeted them cheerily. "Anything to declare?"

Marco was pushed to the front of the group, and his hood was pulled down, revealing his ears.

"Just a thief and a stolen guitar," _Mamá_ Gabi hissed, her grip tight on his shoulder.

The agent's jaw dropped in the most literal sense.

…

The family was escorted through the Marigold Grand Central Station. Violeta and Gabriella went back to mumbling to themselves, Andres now joining them. He seemed a bit more enthusiastic about whatever they were talking about. Manuel followed closely behind his mother. He didn't contribute much at all to the conversation.

"Why don't we just get rid of this blasted curse, ay?" _Tío_ Andres suggested, his melody rising to more of a mezzo piano _._

" _Idiota!"_ came Gabriella's harsh tune, louder than she had intended. She spared a quick glance at Marco before lowering her voice once more.

Marco couldn't catch all of what she said after that. Only pieces. Something along the lines of "Do you want him to hear us?" from what he could gather. He scowled. So they _were_ talking about him. They seemed to be debating something, but what? And why couldn't they tell him about it?

He jumped a bit when he felt a hand clamp onto his shoulder, stopping him from following the family just as they entered the Department of Family Reunions. He relaxed once he realized it was _Mamá_ Rosa.

"Marco," she sang, the notes short but quiet. "Promise me that you won't give them the guitar. Alright?"  
He tensed at the urgency in her voice. "Wha-"

" _Promise me,"_ she repeated, accenting every beat. "Alright?"

"A-alright," Marco stuttered quietly. "I promise. But why-"

 _Mamá_ Rosa shook her head. "Not now."

Manuel stopped and turned slowly, apparently having heard them.

 _Mamá_ Rosa gave him a pleading look. "Don't," she mouthed.

His tired and clouded eyes shifted to the ground, thinking it through. He looked to his mother and winced. His gaze returned to Rosamaria. He gave a simple nod and continued forward without a word.

 _Mamá_ Rosa gave a sigh (but she didn't have lungs…?). "That was close…Now," she started. "Let's catch up before they get suspicious."

They silently caught up with the rest of the family.

Marco had more than a few questions. Why couldn't he give the guitar to his family? Why did _Mamá_ Rosa seem so desperate about it?

"Veracruz family?" an agent called.

But they probably wouldn't be answered any time soon.

…

 **For those who don't know, mezzo piano is a musical term that means "moderately soft."**

 **Sorry for the lateness of this one, it's my own fault.**

 **See you next Sunday!**


	8. Chapter 8 - Walking

**Ok so, remember how I said this probably wasn't going to have a consistent update schedule? Yeah…**

 **Anyway, don't worry! This story will have an ending! Getting there's just going to be a little difficult.**

 **Well…on with the story!**

…

"We're not gonna walk the whole way…right?" Miguel asked after a while of silence.

Marco rubbed his eye, being careful not to smear his makeup, in an attempt to wake himself up a bit more, for his exhaustion was catching up with him again. But that's what happens when you spend most of the night running around instead of sleeping. "Seems like we are," he responded. He pulled his hand away and found a faint black smudge on his invisible skin. He cursed quietly. He hadn't been careful enough. "How does my disguise look?" he asked Miguel.

The boy studied his face for a moment. "Like you've been crying."

"What?!" Was it really that obvious?

"There's a bunch of dark streaks running down your face," Miguel explained while lightly tracing his finger down his cheek. "It looks like you've been crying."

Marco groaned. This was going to be difficult enough as it was! And now he didn't even have a good disguise!

"Were you-"

"I wasn't crying!" Marco practically shouted in defense, causing Miguel to flinch. "It's…just been a long night." He wasn't the greatest liar.

Luckily, Miguel didn't push it any further. He instead switched to another topic. "So…" he began. "Why do you need to get to de la Cruz anyway?"

Marco sighed. "I think he might be able to send me home."

"What do you mean 'might?' Don't you know?"

"Not really…my original plan didn't exactly work out, and I don't know if the new one will."

"What's the new one?"

"Travel across the Land of the Dead and hopefully get his blessing before I turn fully skeletal," Marco explained while examining one of his hands.

Miguel smiled. "Same!"

"How…how do blessings work exactly?" Marco asked. He was dying (heh) to know.

"Well," Miguel began. "I'm not entirely sure, but it's really simple! You just need a marigold petal and someone to actually give it to you. They just need to say your name and 'I give you my blessing.' Then the petal starts glowing and after that you just need to touch it to go back to the living world."

Marco had thought it would be more complicated than that. That seemed too easy! There had to be some kind of catch. "And you've seen this work before?"

"Well yeah," Miguel replied with a small shrug. "It even sent me home."  
"Then why are you still here?"  
"The person that gives you the blessing..." Miguel started, suddenly seeming more somber, "They can add whatever conditions they want."  
So there was a catch! "Conditions?"

"When _Mamá_ Imelda had given me her blessing, she told me that I couldn't play music _ever again."  
_ Was that the name of the woman that had been pursuing him earlier? Imelda?

"And I just couldn't do that, y'know?" Miguel continued. "So I ended up getting myself cursed again."

Marco could understand where the kid was coming from. But at the same time, was it really worth it? To risk your life for music? Marco didn't think so. "But you were home."  
"I know it sounds crazy," the kid admitted. "But I just _can't_ live without music! It's who I am!"

Why did this kid sound like one of de la Cruz's movies?

"Why's your family so against music anyway?"  
Miguel looked at him skeptically. "You ask a lot of questions for someone I just met."

Marco just shrugged. He didn't really know how to handle social situations. He didn't get out too much, since most of his time was spent practicing the _stupid_ guitar. "I'll answer any questions you have about me," he offered, knowing that he'd probably regret it later.

"Alright," Miguel sighed. "I guess that's fair." He took a deep breath before continuing, "Ok, so a long time ago, there was this family…" He told a story that he had clearly been told from birth. It was about a small family that had long since died. The _papá_ had been a musician and had left the family, leaving the _mamá_ alone with a child to raise. She had ended up starting the shoe business that the Riveras were known for. Music had been banned ever since for the pain it had caused her. Miguel then claimed that the man in the story was Ernesto de la Cruz.

De la Cruz had a wife? "Yeah right," Marco scoffed with smile. " _The_ de la Cruz would _totally_ settle for a commoner." Just the thought made him want to laugh.

Miguel glared at him, stopping in his tracks. "He wasn't always famous y'know." He sounded like he was ready to pounce. Marco supposed it made sense. He'd insulted the kid's idol after all. "And I've got proof of it too!" Miguel fished a family photo out of his pocket and unfolded it to show Marco.

Marco gave a small laugh. The guy in the photo was _way_ too skinny to be de la Cruz! Not to mention the head was ripped off. "Please. That could be anybody!"

"Nuh-uh! Only one man has a guitar like that!" Miguel countered as he pointed to the instrument in the photo.

Marco rolled his eyes but the kid had a point. Even still, he wouldn't lose! "Say that this is all true," Marco started. "Why didn't he ever go back? Wouldn't he have wanted to return to his wife and child?" The least he could've done was support his wife as she tried to build a business from the ground up."

Miguel's glare disappeared, instead being replaced with shock. It seemed as though he'd never considered that before. "I…I don't know."

"Perhaps your idol isn't as perfect as you thought," Marco finished before turning and continuing forward. This wasn't news to him. His whole family line was living proof of it after all.

Miguel stayed behind for a moment or two. He shook his head and hurried to catch up. "Well…we'll just have to ask him about it then! There _has_ to be a good reason," he insisted.

Marco frowned. Why was this kid so stubborn? "...Just don't get your hopes up."

…

 **I'm sorry that this is so late.**

 **Again:** _ **This will have an ending.**_

 **Also: I'll have a lot more time to write now that summer's finally here. So I should hopefully be a bit more consistent.**

 **See you whenever I update this again (which should hopefully be soon)!**


	9. Chapter 9 - It Begins

**Nothing t** **o say here.**

 **On with the story.**

…

"Well, you're cursed," the agent informed them.

No one seemed surprised. Just annoyed and disappointed.

" _Another_ curse?" _Tía_ Violeta scoffed before pinching where the bridge of her nose would be. "That's _just_ what this family needs..."

The agent shrugged, with a sympathetic smile. "These things happen when you steal from the dead." Her gaze shifted to Marco. " _Especially_ on _Día de los Muertos."_

Marco glared at her. "I was gonna bring it back!"

"Easy now, _mijo,_ " _Mamá_ Rosa said, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. "How do we undo it?"

"It should be easy enough," the agent assured them, leaning forward a bit on her desk and clasping her hands together. "You just need to return the guitar to whoever you stole it from."

 _Mamá_ Gabi gave an inhuman snarl. "I would rather _die_ than see that… _musician."_ She had censored herself for Marco's sake it seemed. Or maybe it was for the agent. It didn't really matter either way.

"You're already dead," Marco mumbled bitterly.

"Well, you better change your mind before sunrise," the agent noted nervously.

"And why should I?" Gabriella challenged.

"If this boy doesn't get home before sunrise then…well…" She gestured at Marco's hand.

He brought said hand to his face and felt his heart stop at the sight.

Bones.

About half of his index finger didn't have skin. Or at least it didn't look like it did.

But he wasn't dead…

The room began to spin as the agent's words set in.  
He was going to _die_ at sunrise.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he began to fall.

Somebody called his name and caught him before he hit the ground.

…

He didn't stay that way for long. Marco wondered if it was all a dream as he slowly awoke to muffled arguing.

"Marco?" a voice asked as he stirred. It was much clearer than the rest. It seemed much closer too. "Can you hear me?" The voice was warm and comforting. But why was it singing?

Marco groaned as he woke up more. He realized that the voice calling for him didn't sound like anyone in his living family. He opened his eyes to find the skull of his _Mamá_ Rosa staring back at him. She looked relieved, but Marco almost wanted to cry. He brought his hand into view once more, seeing that half of his index finger was still skeletal. He sat up and swallowed nervously as a wave of nausea crashed over him.

But it passed soon enough. His hands flew to his hoodie as he searched for the guitar strap. "Where's the guitar?" he whispered shouted, remembering his promise to _Mamá_ Rosa.

Luckily, the small family couldn't hear him over their musical bickering.  
"Don't worry," she assured him, while gesturing next to her. "It's right here."  
Marco seized the guitar and slid it over his back once more. He looked to his dead relatives. He'd been dragged away from the agent's desk after he'd fainted apparently. They were arguing about something, Marco couldn't really tell what, while Manuel cowered in a corner.

 _Mamá_ Rosa grabbed him by his shoulders, snatching his attention away from them. "Now's your chance _mijo,"_ she whispered harshly. "You need to get out of here and find De la Cruz!"  
"But-"

" _Please_ Marco. You won't have a chance at all if you stay here."  
Despite the almost comical singing that accompanied it, Marco could hear the genuine concern in her voice. He took a deep breath and nodded.

Rosamaria gave an airy laugh. "Good. But getting to him won't be easy. There's a celebrity tour bus that stops by his mansion. You'll still have to find a way in, but at least you'll be there."  
Marco nodded again. Sounded simple enough.  
 _Mamá_ Rosa's smile grew. "Good luck _mijo,"_ she said as she pulled him into a final hug. "I'll do my best to hold them off."  
Marco returned the hug.

"Thank you." _  
_…

Marco soon found himself forcing his way through massive crowds. He didn't really know where he supposed was going, but there was a promising set of doors that weren't too far away.  
"MARCO!" came the cry of his aunt after a while, further pushing him towards the doors.

Marco, at last, pushed his way through the last of the sea of skeletons as he finally reached the doors. And there was a bus too! Maybe it was the one he was looking for!

Violeta's voice rose once more and Marco pushed the doors open and rushed down the steps. His panic only grew as the bus's doors closed. _No no no no no!_ "Wait!" he cried as he finally reached it, stopping in front of the closed doors. "Don't leave!"  
The doors opened once more, and a rather disheveled looking skeleton stepped into view. "What do you want kid?"

"Does this bus go by De la Cruz's house?"

That just seemed to agitate the skeleton, whose name was apparently Héctor according to his name tag, further. But his anger soon switched to intrigue. "Yes, actually!" he declared, suddenly seeming like a much different person.

"Marco!" came the cry of his uncle.  
"Great!" Marco exclaimed as he pushed his way past Héctor and onto the bus. "Then let's go."

…

Turned out the tour bus that supposedly stopped by De la Cruz's mansion wasn't that popular, for Marco was the only one on the bus. As Marco silently wondered if he'd just gotten kidnapped, Héctor decided to pull out an accordion and play _straight into the microphone_ that fed into the speakers on the bus. Marco winced as the instrument's sound got amplified. But it was soon tossed aside.

" _Bienvenidos y feliz_ _Día_ _de los Muertos!"_ Héctor greeted, as if he were talking to a crowd larger than just one person. "You seem like a great crowd, better than my last group. What a bunch of stiffs."  
Marco just looked at him. Who was he talking to?

"A bunch of stiffs," Héctor repeated, after receiving no laughter.

The repetition didn't work either.

" _Buenas noches, señor!"_ Héctor continued speaking to no one as he read from a set of cards. "What's your name? How did you die?" He held the microphone up to an empty bus seat. "Ouch."

Marco looked for an emergency brake. Even if this was the right bus, this skeleton didn't seem to be mentally sound.

"And you, _señora,_ what's your name? How did you die?" He paused for the invisible woman to respond, and nodded along to her answer.

Marco looked at him with bewilderment once more, after having no success in finding a brake. "Who are you talking to?"

"Please hold all questions," was Héctor's response. "Who's ready to have a good time?" "Can I get off?"

"I can't hear you!"

"What is your deal?!"

"Louder!"

"SHUT UP!"

"That's more-" He flipped cards. "Like it!"

Marco groaned and dug his fingers into his hood as he pulled it over his face.  
"Memory," Héctor continued like nothing was wrong. "It's what keeps us all alive."

That piqued Marco's interest.

"As long as our families back home remember us, we live on in this beautiful city."  
The statement was perfectly timed with a beautiful view of the Land of the Dead which had Marco hypnotized for a second or two.

It was immediately followed by a less than ideal view of some trashy part of the city which broke him from the spell.

"But time passes, memories fade, people get forgotten. But the great ones live on in the hearts of millions."

And he'd had enough of Héctor's speech. "How long is this gonna take?"

Héctor paused to send him a glare. "Montezuma, Kahlo, Montalban. They will live on forever."

"Can't this go _any_ faster?"

"Do you _mind?"_ Héctor asked, clearly frustrated. "This is my craft. This is what I do. The tour, it builds. And every time you interrupt me, I have to start over."  
Marco rolled his eyes. "Can't we just skip to the De la Cruz part? I'm kind of on a tight schedule."

"There is no De la Cruz part!" Héctor finally admitted.

""What?!" Marco cried and groaned again. He'd gotten on the wrong bus!

"There. Fine. Now you know," the skeleton said as he plopped down into a seat. "De la Cruz is not on the tour. I suppose you wanna leave now, like everyone else does."

Marco glared at him. "You lied to me!"  
"It's not like I had much of a choice, ok?! Ever since he asked me to stop driving by his house, and I _stupidly_ said yes, my business hasn't been doing all that great!"  
"Wait, you've talked to him before?" That could be useful.  
"Why does it matter?"

"Are you guys friends?"  
Héctor thought about it for a moment. "I guess you could call it that," he sighed, defeated.

Good enough. "Do you think you could get me to him?"

…

 **Is it out of character that Héctor isn't desperately trying to cross the bridge? Yes. Yes it is. Maybe he just gave up a lot sooner in this universe. Who knows?**

 **Thanks for reading!**


End file.
